Taxidermia

In a stark, rural stretch of Hungary where the echoes of past conflicts linger like cold wind through cracked walls, the film opens on Morosgoványi Vendel, an aging man whose days are haunted by war‑torn memories. His world is one of muted colors and austere routine, a place where imagination offers fleeting respite from the grinding monotony of a bleak outpost. The atmosphere feels both oppressive and oddly poetic, setting a tone that blends melancholy with a subtle, unsettling humor.

Across the decades, the focus shifts to his son, Balatony Kálmán, a towering figure whose life revolves around an obsessive pursuit of speed‑eating glory. In a cramped apartment that teeters between claustrophobia and absurd excess, he trains with a single‑minded intensity, hoping that the International Olympic Committee might one day recognize his craft as a sport. His relationship with his own son is colored by relentless expectation and an almost ritualistic devotion to feeding both body and ego, creating a dynamic that is simultaneously tender and grotesquely competitive.

The youngest generation, Balatony Lajoska, steps into a world of quiet precision as a taxidermist, a trade that mirrors his longing for permanence in a family defined by excess and impermanence. Thin and fragile in contrast to his parents, he moves through a shop filled with preserved specimens, each one a silent testament to the desire to freeze time. His quest for an ideal of lasting perfection becomes a haunting counterpoint to the chaotic appetites around him, weaving together themes of memory, desire, and the absurd lengths one will go to capture an elusive sense of order.

Last Updated: August 10, 2025 at 08:49